


The Kilt Fic

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Filming Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-17
Updated: 2006-01-17
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why do Scotsmen wear kilts?  Billy finds one good reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kilt Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.  
> \--  
> The ever-lovely and amazing pippinmctaggart requested NC-17 kilt!porn from me nearly a year ago. I finally delivered.  
>   
> Thanks to many people, but first and foremost to my beta, dani_grl4, who is responsible for making this worth your time. Give her lots of love, she deserves it.
> 
> Thank you also to tigertale7 and whimsicalmusing for their suggestions and input. It's greatly appreciated. Please slap me if I ever mutter the words "future tense" again. Thank you.  
> 

  
_Why do Scotsmen wear kilts?_

“Because the sheep in Scotland can hear a zipper a mile away!” Dom will snicker, then giggle like a madman at his own joke.

Billy will casually reach over and thwack him in the back of the head with his newspaper before going back to his coffee, otherwise ignoring his mate.

Later, though, Dom will ring Billy and ask if he means to wear his black kilt to the club that night. When Billy asks him why, Dom will laugh cheekily, and say he just wants to know what to wear. Wouldn’t want to clash, you know.

At the club, Dom will laugh extra loud above the table, while below, his hand explores the irresistible textures of rough, heavy wool and warm, muscular flesh. He’ll tickle hairy knees, slide long, ringed fingers down a strong calf to the edge of Billy’s thick socks, then back up a taut, clenched thigh, until Billy’s hand circles his wrist in an iron grip, and his mate smiles and suggests a dance, with the ring of steel in his voice.

Dom’ll let Billy drag him away from their mates, out onto the dance floor, let him grind Dom from behind to the rhythm of some mindless, pulsing piece of pop crap that doesn’t mean anything that hasn’t been said better by a million other pop tunes before it: _Let’s fuck._

Billy will push his leather sporran aside so that Dom can feel the thick ridge of arousal rubbing and thrusting against his arse with every throbbing beat of the lyrical come-on. And Dom will shiver, and let his head fall back on his mate’s shoulder, so that he can feel the damp heat of Billy’s breath on his neck and hear the filthy, delicious obscenities as Billy tells him in a throaty purr exactly what he means to do to Dom.

Billy’s fingers will slip just beneath the waist of Dom’s low-riding jeans, and find only hot skin, and the soft tickle of hair against his questing fingertips. He’ll pause then, and turn his face toward Dom’s, and Dom will smile shakily and whisper _didn’t want to clash_ against Billy’s parted lips. And Dom will gasp for air as Billy thrusts his tongue into Dom’s mouth and his hand into Dom’s trousers, curling around him, squeezing, caressing him with short, rough strokes in the hot, damp constriction of his mate’s jeans, rocking against him in time to the tight rhythm of his hand. Then Dom will arch mindlessly into Billy’s palm and moan into Billy’s mouth, and Billy will have to drag his mate off the floor before their dance moves get them kicked out of their favorite club.

He’ll drag Dom by the wrist to the toilet in the back, behind the DJ booth where hardly anyone ever goes, the one with the locking door that _makes_ this their favorite club, although they’ll never tell their mates that. He’ll shove Dom inside and lock the door behind them, and have Dom backed up against it in a heartbeat, trousers around his ankles, and bare arse pressed against the cold surface as Billy kisses him hard and fierce, tongues battling and twisting, sliding, thrusting, slick and hungry and hot. He’ll tip his head back and watch Dom writhe as he wanks him expertly into an ever more mindless state of need, teasing, twisting, squeezing, murmuring to him the entire time about how good Dom’s thick, veined cock feels, warm and heavy in Billy’s hand, and about how long he’s been waiting to fuck Dom tonight, how he can’t wait to bend Dom over the sink, how badly he needs to be inside him.

And when Dom’s trembling and incoherent, and Billy’s hand is slick with precum, sliding up and down his mate’s cock in fast, slippery strokes, when Dom’s whimpering and begging and thrusting into Billy’s palm in quick, spasming jerks…then Billy will stop. “On your knees, Dom,” he’ll say in a seemingly calm voice, and when Dom just _looks_ at him, slackjawed and glassy-eyed, he’ll hold Dom’s gaze, and casually lick his own palm, tasting the salt of Dom’s precum, tart and musky and tempting. He’ll hear Dom moan, and then Dom will drop. And Billy will smile.

He’ll feel long, clever fingers with cold silver rings, slide up the warm lengths of his thighs, lifting the heavy tartan to Billy’s waist, tucking it there with one hand as the other cups the hard, jutting flesh between his legs, caressing, squeezing, stroking with a greedy, impatient rhythm. He’ll look down and see Dom’s eyes on him, hungry and bright with lust, as that long tongue sweeps over his pretty lips, wetting them. He’ll hide the hiss of his sharp inhale as that warm, wet, silky mouth slides down, tight and slick around the swollen length of his cock, but he won’t be able to control that initial thrust, that involuntary bucking of his hips, as his hard cock pushes in deep, seeking the tight embrace of his mate’s perfectly relaxed throat.

He’ll hear Dom moan again, _feel_ it like a hot, tight, shuddering caress around his straining hard-on, feel the wet heat of an eager tongue slithering, licking, sliding over the swollen, velvety head, and then a series of short, sharp sucks will have him bucking his hips, rough and demanding, one hand firm on the back of Dom’s head, the other grasping the ceramic basic of the sink as he backs into it. And he’ll feel those long, elegant fingers finding and teasing and circling his entrance, as the cool metal of Dom’s rings brushes the sensitive underside of his taut balls, making him gasp and shudder, and fuck his mate’s tightslick mouth even harder, and push back into those taunting fingers on the retreat.

“Fuck yeah, Dom,” he’ll groan, grunting and thrusting urgently between his mate’s swollen lips, rocking back hard against his talented fingertips. So fucking pretty, he’ll think hungrily, and then Dom will swallow, slick and tight around his thick cockhead, and press a single digit inside him, and Billy will stop thinking anything at all.

And when he looks down and sees his rigid, flushed, spit-slick cock pushing faster and deeper and harder into Dom’s soft, yielding mouth, when he feels the heat twist in his belly, and shoot straight up through his spine, when he feels his balls tighten in Dom’s caressing palm, and his cock swell inside the slick, tight contractions of Dom’s throat, when his muscles grasp suddenly at Dom’s teasing, stroking finger, it’ll be all he can do to grab a fistful of Dom’s hair and pull his mate’s head back sharply, and watch as his throbbing cock slides from that soft, slack mouth, the swollen head lingering heavily for a moment on that beautifully lush lower lip before slipping away, and those lust-drugged blue eyes looking at him with a need and hunger so powerful it’ll make Billy shudder, and have to grab the base of his erection in a tight, punishing grip before he comes at the very sight of it.

“Up,” he’ll growl when he gets his breath, his voice thick with the need to bend Dom over the counter, push him hard against a stall divider, get down on his bare knees and fuck his mate right there on the filthy, disgusting _floor_ if he has to, if it’ll mean he can be inside Dom _right fucking now_.

Dom will look up at him then, eyes darkening, mouth soft and swollen and wet and inches away from the thick, purple head of Billy’s jerking cock, and Billy’s eyes will fall shut as the urge to shove forward into the hot, slick haven of his mate’s beautiful mouth wars with his need to yank Dom to his feet, twist him back against the counter, spread his mate’s firm arse, press the swollen head of his cock to the tight entrance, and just sink into Dom’s hot, welcoming body at last, fucking him hard and fast until neither of them can think at all.

His eyes will flick open when he feels his aching hard-on enveloped in a hot, slick grasp, and he’ll see Dom still staring up at him, his eyes still dark and hungry, his face still temptingly close…and his fist jerking Billy’s cock slowly, dripping with lube that he’s produced from his discarded jeans, as Billy’s hips thrust forward into the tight, slippery heat of his grip.

“Up,” Billy’ll repeat, his hand twisting harder in Dom’s hair and tugging, forcing him to rise. He’ll taste that slick, eager tongue before Dom’s even fully on his feet, long-fingered hands sliding messily to Billy’s hips, clinging there as Billy devours his mate hungrily, his mouth hot and demanding and wet, teeth sharp and possessive on Dom’s sensitive lips, taut jaw, arched neck.

He’ll hear Dom moan something hot and incoherent, and buck hard against him, and he’ll pull back in time to see his mate’s eyes go glassy as Dom clutches himself with a slick, long fingered hand, jerking his swollen cock roughly before Billy’s very eyes, spreading the lube in frantic, desperate strokes until Billy has to grab his wrist and twist it hard behind his back to keep him from coming. The sight of Dom bucking and writhing against his restraining grasp, begging brokenly on the very edge of release will be enough to make Billy grab himself just as tight, neat fingers clenching restrictively around the base of his jutting erection once again, grip tightening against an orgasm so close he can taste it.

“ _Billy_.” Dom’s whine will be desperate, high and thick and _needing_ , and Billy won’t be able to resist.

One sharp tug will have Dom’s mouth crashing into his own, one last hard, heated mating of wet, thrusting tongues and demanding teeth, and then Billy will spin Dom away from him, his grip still tight on his mate’s wrist as he forces it higher, uses it to bend Dom low across the sink, knowing that the whimper he hears is more need than pain. His other hand will shake as he presses down on the base of his mate’s spine, as he nudges Dom’s unsteady thighs further apart with his knee, and he’ll need to stop a moment, need a deep breath before he can do this, before he can slow it down, make it right for both of them.

His head will tilt back, his hands loosening suddenly, releasing his mate’s wrist in favor of grasping his hips, anchoring himself as his dick pushes insistently into the crease of Dom’s arse, sliding wetly up and down, back and forth until Dom’s pushing back, begging with shallow breaths and thick moans and wracking shudders.

“Please, Billy,” he’ll choke out, and Billy will look up to see his mate’s reflection, eyes dark and pleading, jaw slack, lips raw and swollen and split, a thin line of blood creasing the broken flesh that Billy’ll suddenly want desperately to soothe, even as he watches Dom’s tongue flick over it, even as he feels his hips slam forward, and knows he’s too close to mess around.

“Please,” Dom will whimper again, and Billy’s hands will be rough and grasping and eager, tugging his mate’s cock, drawing lube and precum onto his fingertips, and wrenching a stuttering groan from his mate’s lips.

He’ll barely have time to press wetted fingers to his mate’s entrance before Dom is bucking backward, pushing hard into Billy’s touch, gasping and shuddering as Billy’s fingers slide in deep, and twist inside him, until they find that sensitive cluster of nerves that makes Dom tremble and arch and cry out brokenly.

“There, there, there,” Dom will beg, mindless and needy, intermingling Billy’s name in his incoherent pleas as he thrusts back, over and over again, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers.

And then Billy’s other hand will clamp down on Dom’s hip. “Don’t move,” he’ll ground out, his voice thick with need. Slowly, carefully, he’ll slide his fingers from the other man’s body, his aching prick jerking hard at Dom’s whimper.

Holding his mate immobile, he’ll press forward, unable to take it slow, unable to do anything except shudder as the dark, swollen crown of his cock nudges against the tight, slicked aperture. He’ll feel Dom shiver, hear and the breathy moan that escapes him as Billy presses inward slightly, slowly, biting his lip against the pressure and the pleasure and the tight clench of his mate’s body drawing him in. Then Dom will shove backward unexpectedly, taking all of Billy at once, making them both cry out as Billy finds himself buried deep in his mate’s body, Dom’s back arching off the counter as he pushes back again, wordlessly begging for more.

And then there’ll only be slick, welcoming heat and Dom’s sob of pleasure, as Billy’s hands tighten on his mate’s hips, on the slick jut of his cock, full and heavy in Billy’s grip, and he’ll thrust and stroke again and again, fasterdeeperharder, blood pounding in his ears as Dom arches hard into him, pushing frantically back into the thickness of his cock, and surging as desperately forward into the rough jerk and twist of Billy’s tight fist.

Their eyes will meet in the mirror – Dom’s glassy and begging, Billy’s fiercely intense – and Dom’s will widen as he cries out, a moment before he comes, coating Billy’s fist, shaking and spasming in Billy’s grip, his body jerking and grasping at Billy’s swelling cock in tight contractions, swallowing him whole, dragging him to the sharp edge of pleasure and past, leaving him clinging to Dom desperately as he shudders with an almost painful ecstasy.

As the piercingly sweet aftershocks die away, Billy’ll feel Dom start to tremble beneath him – with exhaustion this time – and he’ll ease slowly from his mate’s body, feeling a smile tugging at his lips as Dom sighs with soft regret at the separation. As his eyes meet his mate’s in the mirror, their gazes locking, Billy will reach for Dom’s hand, prying it gently from countertop, and lacing their fingers together, the gesture strangely intimate after what they’ve shared. And Dom’s answering smile will be uncharacteristically bashful, unexpectedly sweet.

 

“Hey Bills, _why do Scotsmen wear kilts_?” Dom teases, _sotto voce_ , elbowing him. “Can’t believe you didn’t have an answer for that one. Slipping in your old age, mate?”

Billy makes a rude gesture, out of the interviewer’s line of sight, wondering if the interview were nearly over. Now that he’s missed most of it.

“Maybe she should’ve asked what you wear _under_ your kilt instead,” Dom mutters a moment later, waggling his eyebrows at Billy while the reporter’s looking away.

“Lucky thing she didn’t ask what’s under your trousers,” Billy snorts quietly. “You’d probably have dropped ’em and showed her, ye perv.”

“Curious, are you? If you wanted a free show, all you had to do was ask…”

“Nice try, Monaghan,” he manages dryly, willing himself not to think about it…more, anyway. _Down, boy._ He cocks an eyebrow, in a show of skepticism. “ _Especially_ for someone so interested in my kilt.”

The interviewer turns his attention back to them, and asks Dom a question before he can reply. It’s a fairly routine inquiry; it doesn’t explain the sudden flush creeping up his mate’s neck, or the way he’s pointedly not looking at Billy, even as they wrap up and the reporter asks what club they’re going to tonight.

It could just be Billy’s imagination, but his mate looks positively nervous. Billy smiles to himself in secret delight.

Good thing he’d thought to pack his kilt.


End file.
